Sometimes We Tell Lies Because We Care
by Dascini
Summary: Contains spoilers for Yorozuya Forever. When Gintoki went back into the past to change the future, just how did the Joui 4 react to it? Did the Shiroyasha die alone in a sea of corpses, or was he found by one of his friends? How would Katsura, Sakamoto, and Takasugi of the Joui Era react to the attack on the Shiroyasha? How did the Shiroyasha die? No pairings, only friendship.


**Hooh, hello there! This is my first attempt at a Gintama fanfic, so please don't be too harsh on me. I tried my best to keep them IC with the theme used.**

**This contains spoilers for Yorozuya Forever and character death.**

* * *

"With this...it all ends…!"

In a moment silver was upon silver, bright red painting the area before them. With his wooden bokuto impaling his counterpart, the older male gave a weary smile. Pulling the sword out in one quick movement, he flicked the blade, letting the blood once painting it splatter to the ground. The younger of the two fell to the ground, dull red eyes staring up at his attacker.

"I'm sure you're confused, right? Why would the you from the future want to kill you? Well, there's a good reason for it, kid. It's to save the future. It's the only way we can protect everyone," the man explained, watching as the other seemed to accept his reasoning. If there was no one else you could trust, you could at least trust yourself, right?

Slowly the bokuto-wielding man began to become transparent. Looking down at his disappearing legs, he gave a sigh, "It's happening already, huh? At least I had a pretty cool death, what other Shounen Jump character can say they died by going back into the past and killing their past self to save everyone?"

"..." throughout it all the younger of the two stayed silent, merely watching his future self speak.

"I guess this is goodbye," the other resigned, giving his younger self a wave as he disappeared completely from existence.

The samurai lying on the ground continued to bleed out slowly, dying the war-torn soil a dull red.

* * *

"Gintoki!" a voice rang over the field of corpses, frantic in its tone. The battle had ended, the enemy amanto troops had already retreated for the day, and their silver-haired companion had not returned. Determined to find his childhood friend, Katsura Kotaro searched throughout the area Gintoki and his group had been fighting at. Sakamoto and Takasugi had waited back at the camp, both believing that the missing male had merely gone out to see if anyone else was still alive on the battlefield, as he tended to do.

Call it intuition, but something told Katsura that something was wrong. Gintoki, known as the Shiroyasha to the troops, was strong. That was a fact. Even so, the dark-haired man could not help but feel a niggling in his gut that something had happened to their comrade. So, Katsura called out around the fields, searching desperately for a flash of the white the other wore.

He wasn't sure how long he had searched for, but it was all worth it the moment he caught a sliver of silver in his peripheral vision. Letting out a sigh of relief, Katsura dashed over to the other, stopping once he caught sight of the state Gintoki was in. Red marred the white uniform he wore, tainting it a dirty and dull color. Usually the sight would have meant little, the Shiroyasha was a fierce fighter who could and would cut down many enemies. It wasn't strange for his clothing to be stained red. This time, though, it was different.

Rather than the blood of their enemies, the open-wound in the other's abdomen and the blood pooling beneath his fallen figure made it clear that the blood was his own. After a moment of staring at the wounded man, Katsura came to his senses and bent down close to the other. With baited breath he waited, hoping to hear the sound of his companion breathing. For a moment all was silent, and he began to lose hope. It didn't seem possible, that his childhood friend, the one known to fight like a demon and live through anything, could die here. Just as he thought that, he heard it. Slow and shallow breaths came from the taller of the two, a sign that he was still hanging onto life.

"I knew you wouldn't give up so easily, Gintoki," Katsura sighed, shaking his head with a wan smile. Even if the other was alive now, the clock was ticking. Judging by the amount of blood around the silver samurai, the amount of time left seemed very little. Doing his best not to jostle the injured man too much, the Young Nobleman of Fury bent down and picked up his friend, adjusting it so that the unconscious man leaned on his back.

Moving quickly, Katsura carried Gintoki on this back and through the battlefield, trying to move as rapidly as he could. The warm and wet sensation on his back was enough to spur him on.

* * *

By the time they reached the camp it was a good deal darker, the battlefield having been quite a ways from their headquarters. Trudging into camp, Katsura immediately spotted Sakamoto and Takasugi talking to each other by the entrance. Based on Takasugi's annoyed expression and Sakamoto's grin, it seemed like the taller of the two had been annoying the other again.

Ignoring the fact they were in the middle of a conversation, Katsura called out, "Get a medic, quickly!"

Something in his rough tone must have alerted the two. They both immediately stopped what they were doing and looked over at the other. Sakamoto gave a grin and called out, "Ah, Zura, there you are, ha, ha, ha! Did you find Kintoki?"

"I bet that perm-haired bastard was just fooling around," Takasugi tch'd in annoyance, rolling his eyes.

"I said to get a medic!" the man repeated, anger from his desperation lacing his tone.

The fact the other had not even bothered to correct his hated nickname must have clued them in. Sakamoto took one look at the unconscious man on Katsura's back and nodded. For once losing his smile, the brown-haired man raced off into the camp to search for the first medic he could find.

Takasugi watched as his two friends from the temple walked past him, shock flittering across his face once he spotted the blood-stained state of his silver-haired comrade. Frowning, he followed after Katsura, worried (though he would never admit it) for Gintoki.

Luckily, Sakamoto had managed to find a medic quickly. The man had blanched at the sight of the almighty Shiroyasha so badly injured, but had quickly regained composure. Directing Katsura, he brought the four into his medic tent and laid the injured man on the futon.

After shooing the other three outside, he began his work, eyes sweeping the other to try and assess the total damage he had.

Meanwhile, Katsura, Takasugi, and Sakamoto waited outside with baited breath. Each one of them sat around the entrance to the tent, staring at the ground with gloomy expressions.

Katsura was worried. He was worried that he would lose one of his closest friends. It hurt enough to lose soldiers everyday, something he knew Gintoki couldn't stand, but to lose someone he had known for years would be a heavy blow. The two had known each other since the day Shouyou-sensei had brought the silver-haired boy into their class one day. Katsura and Takasugi were the first and closest friends Gintoki had at the temple. The three of them were supposed to fight together and save the country from the amanto. It just wasn't feasible, that Gintoki could die here. Out of all of them, the Shiroyasha was the one to rally the men the most. Without Gintoki, they would lose much of their manpower. He didn't want to lose another important person.

Takasugi, on the other hand, was enraged. How dare the amanto do this, how dare they wound Gintoki so grievously. It was obvious the attack had been a dirty one, there was no other way they could have possibly taken down the Shiroyasha. Had they no sense of honor? Even if he and Gintoki fought, the silver-haired man was still a comrade and childhood friend of his. They were fighting to avenge Shouyou-sensei, to destroy those damned amanto invaders. How dare they try and take away another one of the important people of his past? They would pay, he would make sure of it.

Sakamoto did not have the same childhood bond as the other three. At the same time, he and the rest had all become close comrades over the period of time they fought together. Gintoki was a friend of his, perhaps a closer one when compared to his relationships with Katsura and Takasugi. After battles, the two of them would sit on the roof together and look at the stars. Even if Gintoki sometimes pretended to ignore him, Sakamoto knew the silver-haired man was listening to everything he said. Gintoki was the one Sakamoto knew he could talk to about anything, the one he knew he could count on. If Gintoki were to die here, well, he wasn't quite sure what he would do.

It seemed like an eternity before the medical tent flap was opened. The medic walked out, wiping his hands off with a tired expression.

"How is he?" Katsura immediately jumped up.

"He's…" the medic began, then stopped a gave a smile, "it's a miracle really. I doubt anyone else could have been able to survive through a wound like that. He was run straight through with a sword, and he lost a lot of blood, but he'll pull through. The Shiroyasha is a strong man," he explained.

"Thank goodness," the long-haired samurai sighed in relief, the two behind him giving similar responses. Perking up immediately, he continued, "Can we see him?"

"He did wake up, but be warned he may be a bit delirious. As I said before, he did lose a lot of blood, so if he says anything strange or unusual don't think too much of it," the medic said, nodding towards the entrance.

"Thank you," Katsura bowed, quickly heading into the tent to see the injured man. Sakamoto and Takasugi followed after, nodding their thanks as they passed.

Once the three were through, the medic let the smile slip off of his face and sighed. Glancing at the tent flap the three had just entered, he began to walk away quietly.

"Shiroyasha-dono, I hope I have done the right thing…"

* * *

While the medic had been examining the injured warrior, a dull red eye had opened a sliver. He had immediately given a bow in greeting to the awakened warrior and explained what he was doing.

"I'm going to die," the other had stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

The medic had tried to talk him out of that train of thought, stating that the other was strong and he would surely pull through. Despite his urgings, the other disagreed.

"No, I'm going to die," he continued stubbornly, refusing to budge in his belief.

The more the medic examined him, the more he found he had to agree. The Shiroyasha had already lost a great deal of blood, not to mention the puncture wound from the sword had run him straight through, injuring him internally as well as externally. Truthfully, it was a miracle he had been able to hang on to this moment. He most likely would not even last through the night.

"Tell them...tell them I'm fine," the Shiroyasha had demanded, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"But, Shiroyasha-dono-" he had tried to reason with the man, unable to understand why he would want him to lie to his comrades.

"...Please, just...just do it," the silver-haired patient had begged him.

That alone was enough to convince him. The Shiroyasha was known as the strongest warrior of the Joui, if he were to beg for something on his deathbed...well, he deserved to have his last wish granted. Even though he didn't quite understand why, the medic went out and fed the other three the Shiroyasha's lie. It was all up to him now.

* * *

Pushing the tent flap aside, Katsura shuffled in, followed quickly by Sakamoto and Takasugi.

The three gazed at the injured man, taking in the sight of the bandages spanning his chest. His skin looked a much paler parlor than usual, and his eyes seemed foggy and unfocused. It was the first time any of them had seen the other in such a sorry state.

Sakamoto was the first to break the silence.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha! Kintoki, you're looking pretty terrible, I bet if a girl were to see you now she would feel sorry enough to go on a date with you," he laughed, doing his best to lighten the mood.

"Hey...you bastard...girls throw themselves at me no matter what state I'm in…and it's Gintoki...you idiot," Gintoki shot back, always up for some banter.

"Ha, ha, sure, sure!" the other laughed, shaking his head.

"Can you two stop fighting for one moment? Gintoki, you're badly injured, I don't think now is the time for your bickering," Katsura reasoned, shaking his head at the two.

"Come on, Zura, you know those two idiots can't help but fight over who gets the most girls. Both of them have natural-perms, they have to see which one of them has it worse," Takasugi said, gesturing towards the both of them.

"What was that...you bastard? Last I heard...girls found you...boring," the silver-haired man countered, glaring holes at his natural enemy.

"Yeah, ha, ha! And besides, didn't the two of you choose the same girl in the red-light district?" Sakamoto cut in, causing the two of them to glare daggers at him.

"It's Katsura, and all of you, stop it already," the lone sane man did his best to placate his comrades, but was ignored as per usual.

"Takasugi-kun and I just happened to pick the same girl…besides, she probably felt bad for him, being…so short and all, and decided to go with him out of…pity," Gintoki growled.

"More like she was disgusted by your natural silver perm. No woman would love a man with such hideous hair," Takasugi replied, an equal amount of annoyance painting his voice as he turned his anger from Sakamoto to Gintoki.

"You're so small...she probably thought of you like a son who needed care...rather than a man...and girls love my hair," the other stated.

"I'm not that short, you bastard," the shorter male hissed out, glaring hard at the injured man. One look from Katsura, who by this time had had enough of their fighting, sated him, "We'll solve this once you've healed. Whoever launches the best surprise attack against the can wins."

"We're playing kick the can again?!" Katsura exclaimed, shocked at the sudden mention of the childish game.

"Heh...you're on...I'll win no sweat," Gintoki smirked.

"In that case, you better get healed up soon, or else you'll forfeit by default," Takasugi pointed out, already moving to leave the tent.

"You're just...looking for a loophole so you can…win," the silver-haired man replied.

"Takasugi, where are you going?" Katsura asked, watching as the other man lifted the tent flap.

"If that idiot can mouth off, he's fine," he explained, tilting his head towards the previously stated idiot.

"Hey….Takasugi...one last thing…" Gintoki spoke up, stopping Takasugi in his tracks, "...never forget...what Shouyou-sensei taught us…"

"...Do you think I'm stupid like you? There's no way I would ever forget such an important thing. Make sure you don't forget them either," the other replied, back turned towards the man lying upon the futon. Without another word he was gone.

"Gintoki, you…" Katsura began, frowning slightly.

"Ah, ha, ha! Well, that was interesting, but I better leave soon too! See you around, Kintoki!" Sakamoto laughed awkwardly, moving to leave as well.

"I told you...it's Gintoki...Bakamoto," Gintoki stated, "but...Sakamoto...you should pursue that 'thing' we spoke about...if you don't take a chance you might...chicken out later…"

"...Ha, ha, alright, Kintoki! Don't worry, I'll be fine," the other perm-haired man laughed, waving goodbye as he left the tent.

"...Gintoki, are you sure you are-" Katsura started.

"I'm fine, Zura...don't worry," the silver samurai cut him off, gazing at the space above his head.

"If you say so…and it's not Zura, it's Katsura," the other relented, remembering the medic's words. Perhaps Gintoki was merely saying these things out of delirium. There was no way he would die, the medic had said he wouldn't, so why did it feel like this would be the last time he would ever see his friend?

"...Katsura...I'm counting on you...remember that if you have time...to think of a beautiful end then just live...live beautifully until the end. Don't lose yourself...in the war," the man rasped out, eyes beginning to lose what little focus they had.

"...I won't, I promise. Now get some rest, we need the Shiroyasha better as soon as possible," he admonished, off-put by the use of his real name. It wasn't often that Gintoki called him Katsura, but when he did it meant he was being serious.

"...Thanks, Zura," Gintoki smiled, closing his eyes and falling back into unconsciousness.

Katsura stared at him, watching as his friend fell back into slumber. Relieved at seeing the other still breathing, he too left the tent and went off into the camp. There were battles to be planned and people to speak with. Even so, that bad feeling was still there…

"It's Katsura...you idiot…"

* * *

The next morning, the Young Nobleman of Fury was awoken by the sound of rain pouring onto the earth. Given the weather, it seemed unlikely that the amanto would attack, but you could never be certain. Silently the man got up, usually one of the first to rise in the camp, and went outside. He had heard correctly, rain was pounding down onto the camp, immediately wetting his hair and clothing.

The sudden memory of the events from yesterday hit him. Without thought for anything else he went straight to the medic tent, trying to open the flap quietly and allow himself entry. Gintoki still lay upon the futon, eyes still closed and silent. Something seemed wrong, though. It was too quiet in the room, not even the sound of his breathing could be heard. The other's skin seemed even paler than yesterday, coming to almost match the color of his white uniform.

Katsura suddenly came to the realization of what had transpired. Rushing forward, he listened closely to Gintoki for any signs of life. It struck him how similar this was to yesterday, but unlike yesterday, today he found nothing.

Gintoki Sakata was dead.

Somewhere fifteen years into the future, two children began to cry for reasons they couldn't explain.


End file.
